


Nice Work if you Can Get it

by AnonEhouse



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Civil War Team Iron Man, Crack, Crack Treated Seriously, Fluff and Crack, Humor, No actual porn, Not Steve Friendly, Other, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), not friendly to Team Captain America, porn stars
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-18
Updated: 2017-10-18
Packaged: 2019-01-19 05:59:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12404472
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnonEhouse/pseuds/AnonEhouse
Summary: Inspired by DLS' 'Clapping in the Nosebleeds' wherein Rogers' team attempts to earn money to support themselves.I decided the porn industry would be a viable source of funding for them. And then I looked at the comics to findcanonporn costumes and aliases for them. Because, you know,the Avengerswould never do anything so undignified...





	Nice Work if you Can Get it

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dls](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dls/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Clapping in the Nose Bleeds](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12396615) by [dls](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dls/pseuds/dls). 



(If you are reading this on any PAY site this is a STOLEN WORK, the author has NOT Given Permission for it to be here. If you're paying to read it, you're being cheated too because you can read it on Archiveofourown for FREE.)

 

"Suit up," Captain America... no, Nomad, he was Nomad,- called, loud enough to be heard outside the thin wall of the tiny closet he'd been allotted as 'the star turn'. He shouldn't grumble, it was more privacy than the rest of the Avengers got. He already had his mask-hood in place, the blue black satin crafted to cling to his face and show off his strong jaw while his carefully tousled and gelled blond hair stuck out the top. He adjusted the navel-plunging shirt to make sure it covered up his nipples even though he knew it was a lost cause. Five minutes into the script the only thing left of his costume would be the mask-hood. 

He had fought hard for that clause, even though the salary was less. No one must ever know that Captain America was reduced to working as a porn actor. At least, he told himself, it was honest work, not like Scott's suggestion. Shrinking to break into ATM machines and shove money out the slot. Really that was... dishonest, getting money without effort. He thought a little, just a little, wistfully of the days when Stark had done the right thing and supported the Avengers, instead of washing his hands of them, with the feeble excuse that he had to work for S.I. . Everyone knew Stark enjoyed making inventions. How could it be work if you liked doing it? 

Now this, this was work. 

He pulled up his canary yellow boots and carefully settled the folds of his cape, making sure the yellow was on the lining and the black on the outside. He'd had his pay docked when he forgot. Continuity. Who the hell cared about continuity? It was just another way to cheat him. Ever since Stark had betrayed them with the Accords he created it was like the whole world decided they could pick on the Avengers. Sure, everyone wanted to stay on the rich guy's side. 

He opened the door and stepped on the hem of his cape, falling face forward. Luckily Hawkeye caught him. "Thanks, Ronin," he said, careful to protect Clint's identity. Clint's face hadn't been on comic books and WWII posters, so he'd got away without a mask, but his outfit was even more embarrassing than Steve's. Why in God's name had they stuck him all in purple, with a _mini-skirt_ and a couple strips of fabric that went over his shoulders? Half the time his nipples were on view even before the action began. "Er, Ronin, your... um... skirt's riding up."

"Yeah, it shrunk in the wash, they said," Clint said. "Who cares? Everyone's gonna see my equipment? Yeah. That's what they pay for, isn't it?" He scratched at his back with the end of the cheap plastic purple bow the props department had given him.

"Your wig is slipping, too, Ronin," Scott said. It had taken a lot of repetition and a few smacks upside the head before Scott remembered to keep to their new code names at all times.

"Eh, the more it covers my face, the better. C'mon, I'm already behind on child support, let's get this shitshow on the road."

"Your antennae are drooping, Pincer," Steve said, trying to restore a little decorum. So the job was embarrassing, they could still be professional about it.

"Black Pearl broke the wire in the last scene," Scott grumbled, pointing to Natasha. "You didn't have to be SO aggressive!" 

"Stop being such a baby," Natasha replied. "The thigh choke is my signature move. It's in my contract." She scratched irritably at her fishnet covered ass while her strapless black bathing suit rubbed against the edges. She stuck on her cats' eye domino mask and glared at him. Her hair was dyed black to match the bathing suit. She clasped a short cape around her neck. "You were the luckiest with the costume, you can't bitch about the rest of us trying to make a living."

Scott hung his head. "I know, you're right." He was dressed from top to toe in skin-tight cherry red spandex, with black gloves and boots and a big black circle on his chest with broad black bars going from the circle around his back. And a pair of deelie bobber antennae that hung down limply. "It's just... I'm not... I'm no one special in this costume. It doesn't do anything."

"And neither do you, Pincher," Wanda said, with a threatening growl. "You always get to play the poor innocent boob! I have to dance and seduce you!" She sniffed and shook her hips, chiming the coins on the girdle which upheld the barely concealing strips of red silk that fell to her ankles in front and back. Her outfit was a ridiculous combination of red nun's wimple pinned into her hair, giant cheap gold earring hoops and bangles, scarlet lace up boots, and opera gloves that ended at the wrist, and a bodice with nose-cone pointy breasts. The fluttering red silk cape had more material than all the rest of it. "And I'm COLD. Look! I'm goosebumps all over!"

"Better goosebumps than pigeon shit, Gypsy Witch," Sam said. "I told them I could play this stupid Brother Superhero without a bird theme, but no, I have to go around with a bird on my shoulder." They all looked at him, and nodded. At first glance his costume wasn't any more embarrassing than the others, red and white tights with a neckline that plunged like Steve's, boots and gloves and a clinging face mask that went up to his eyebrows and down to his cheeks. Then you noticed the yellow accents on the boots looked like bird toes, and the yellow accent on the mask was a beak, and the cape was cut to look like feathers. "At least they could have made the shoulders white." He brushed uselessly at the bird crap dotting the red shoulders of his costume.

"I know it's hard," Steve said.

Everyone groaned.

"What? Oh." Steve felt himself blush. "I didn't mean it THAT way. Look, remember, we do this together! As a team!"

"Yay," Clint said half-heartedly.

Steve put his shoulders back, defiantly. "This is only until people come to their senses. We are the..." 

Natasha hissed at him.

Steve changed what he was going to say. "We are the Gangbangers!"

"Yay," Sam said, deadpan. "And we all come together," he added their motto.

"And if we die the little death, walk it off," Nat finished.

Steve sighed. Somehow it had been so much easier to motivate the team when Tony was around. He still hadn't figured out why. "Let's do this!" he said and strode out, heading for the bright lights and the fake beds. It was good that he had his team to watch his backside. No. His BACK.

**Author's Note:**

> Note: While the costumes and names were all canon Marvel Comics, not all the names are necessarily the ones associated with the costumes. Nomad and Gypsy Witch were, but I'm not sure of any of the others since I found the names in one place and images of the costumes in others.


End file.
